The Masuda Affair (35 page)

The letter was no more enlightening than Seimei’s blunt report, but Akitada looked up from it and said, ‘It must be Sadanori’s doing. He did this to stop my meddling in his
affairs. I wonder what he will say when I tell him that Ishikawa is dead and that he is suspected of several murders.’

Seimei looked nervous. ‘You are not going to see Lord Sadanori again?’

‘Even without the summons from the board, I would have to speak to him. There are loose ends in this case, and the boy deserves to know what happened to his parents.’

Seimei twisted his thin old hands in silent protest.

Akitada touched his shoulder. ‘Seimei, trust me. All will be well. Her Ladyship has taken us in hand.’

That made Seimei smile again. ‘Oh, very good,’ he said. ‘Then happiness has indeed returned to this house.’

But ‘trouble’ had also returned, both figuratively and literally. While he was not certain how deep Sadanori’s involvement in the murders went, Tora’s report of the conversation between Ishikawa and his master suggested that Sadanori knew about them.

Akitada washed and changed his clothes, then went to tell Tamako about the summons from the board. Nori was sitting on the floor playing with Hanae’s white cat. He looked like any happy, healthy little boy.

Tamako listened to his news and sighed. ‘I suppose it had to happen. You will know how to answer them.’ They had both learned that the decisions made by the mighty were not always based on reason and truth, and that punishment and reward were equally unpredictable.

‘You won’t mind living in poverty again?’

She shook her head and smiled at him.

His heart lifted with hope. ‘I’m on my way to see Sadanori,’ he said.

Her smile changed to alarm. ‘Take Tora.’

‘You know I must see Sadanori privately.’

‘Yes, but … he could wait outside.’

He laughed. ‘You haven’t seen Sadanori. I’m a much better fighter than he.’

‘You will take your sword?’

‘No, that’s not what I meant. I wouldn’t be admitted. I meant with my bare hands.’ He flexed them and scowled ferociously.

Tamako giggled. She had always had a very pretty laugh. ‘Be careful and hurry back, husband,’ she murmured.

A short while later, when Akitada was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, putting on his shoes, he noticed a strange rumbling sound that seemed to come from beneath his feet. He paused to listen. Trouble was barking furiously in the stable, and birds fluttered among the trees. Akitada got up and crossed the yard quickly, afraid that some part of a building or wall had collapsed.

But all seemed intact in the stable. Only the horses moved nervously and looked at him with large liquid eyes showing their whites. Trouble came, his fur standing in a ridge along his spine. He pushed his nose into Akitada’s hand, whined and wagged his tail. Shaking his head, Akitada went back outside, glanced up at all the roofs and scanned the walls. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he left on his errand.

Akitada was convinced that Sadanori had been an unwilling tool in Ishikawa’s hands. He had a marriageable daughter who was his heiress, and Ishikawa had played a game of murder to implicate Sadanori until he was ripe for blackmail. The last time Akitada and Ishikawa had crossed paths, the young man had also resorted to blackmail when he had discovered a guilty secret. This time he had created the guilty secret himself.

What Akitada was about to do would seem to Sadanori like more blackmail – all the more so because the powerful Fujiwara noble had caused serious problems for Akitada and was in a position not only to reverse them, but to further Akitada’s career. Men like Sadanori were used to the greed of lesser mortals. It would be much wiser not to irritate Sadanori further, but that was impossible.

The great man’s house lay quiet in the westering sun. There was little activity in the courtyard, and the servant who met Akitada seemed glad of a break in the tedium. He took Akitada into a small reception hall and disappeared to announce him to his master.

Time passed. Akitada was restless. After sitting for a while, he got up and paced. More time passed.

Akitada decided that Sadanori had left him waiting in order to be insulting. Thoroughly irritated, he pushed up a shutter and stepped out on to a veranda overlooking the lake and private gardens. The bright blue-tiled roof beyond the far trees must be the new pavilion. And there, in a distance, he saw his unwilling host – his plump figure in a blue gown unmistakable – jogging away past the lake to the pavilion.

Akitada turned and went back inside. The servant returned to inform him that his master was not at home and it was not known when he would return.

Suppressing anger, Akitada thanked the man and left. He walked quickly around the walled compound to the back gate. When there was no response to his knock, he pushed the gate open and took the path to the pavilion.

The garden seemed strangely silent. No birds sang. Near the water’s edge some twenty ducks milled about nervously. Sadanori had had the building raised nearly five feet above ground level – probably for an unobstructed view across the lake to his residence and over the shining roofs of palaces beyond, all the way to the green hills outside the city.

Akitada climbed the stairs, and Sadanori called out, ‘Who is there? I do not wish to be disturbed.’

Akitada said nothing and crossed the veranda.

‘Go away!’ Sadanori sounded irascible.

Akitada found him sitting at a desk in the nearest room, drumming his fingers and glaring at the door.

‘You!’ he gasped.

Akitada made him a mocking bow. ‘A charming place for us to meet. Private, yet luxurious.’ The room was not large, but the mats on the sparkling floor were very thick and bound in silk. Sadanori’s desk was of the finest cedar wood and furnished with writing implements carved from ivory and jade.

Sadanori glowered. ‘I don’t want to see you. Who let you in?’

Akitada seated himself on a green silk cushion. ‘What a very handsome robe,’ he said lightly. It was in fact a very beautiful and expensive pale blue silk with a woven pattern
of clouds. ‘I happened to see you from the reception room and followed to bring you news from your mother.’

Sadanori’s jaw clenched. ‘My mother? You were trying to curry favor with my mother? I’m warning you, Sugawara, it won’t do you any good.’

‘I think,’ said Akitada, ‘you’re under some misapprehension. I’m not here on my account.’

Sadanori’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re not? My mother is in good health, I hope?’

‘Distraught, but well.’

‘Distraught? What happened?’

‘Two violent deaths are not reassuring events to witness.’

The other man’s eyes widened. He gulped. Akitada let him wait. Finally, Sadanori gasped, ‘Wh— who died?’

‘Ishikawa died last night, and his mother this morning.’

Now Sadanori was frightened. ‘Y-you k-killed them?’

Of course not. But they talked before they died.’

Turning pale, Sadanori shouted, ‘Get out. Get away from me. Help!’

His voice was not very loud, and the pavilion was a long way from the main house. Akitada sighed. ‘You should be glad to be rid of your blackmailer.’

Sadanori stared at him as he thought about this. He still looked a little green and his hands still plucked nervously at his robe, but he weighed Akitada’s words. ‘Why are you here?’

‘To tell you what happened.’

‘I want to know what they said.’

So Sadanori was already beginning to fight back.

‘You have been implicated in several murders.’ It was not altogether an untruth, if you took in the conversation Tora had overheard here in this pavilion. Much now depended on manipulating Sadanori into making a mistake, a slip of the tongue that would confirm Akitada’s suspicions.

Sadanori opened his mouth to speak when it happened.

The carved-ivory water container on his desk began to move. They both stared at it in astonishment. Akitada felt a faint trembling and wondered if Sadanori’s agitation had transferred itself to the floor they were sitting on. Then all
the implements on the desk started to slide about and the floor beneath him shook. Outside, the waterfowl took to the air with loud quacking and a clatter of wings. Akitada had the oddest impression of shifting, or rather of the walls around him shifting – or perhaps of the building sliding sideways. He caught his breath, trying to make sense of it, when Sadanori yelped, ‘Earthquake!’ and jumped to his feet to flee.

Before Akitada could follow, another rolling shake started, the ivory water container danced off the desk, and outside tiles crashed to the ground. The new wooden beams squealed like wounded animals, and a bamboo stand fell over, spilling Sadanori’s library across the floor. Sadanori stumbled over them and out the door. Akitada heard him running down the staircase.

Akitada got up when the tremor ceased. It was safer outside, provided he was not hit by the tiles sliding down from the roof. Looking up at the ceiling, he saw small cracks. Massive timbers supported this floor and the heavy tile roof above him. Some dust sifted down, but the room looked stable enough. It depended on how long a quake lasted and how strong the shocks were. Perhaps the worst was over.

It was not. The next shock caused him to stumble. This time the floor under his feet rolled like a ship at sea. The building creaked and squealed. Akitada staggered to the door and on to the veranda. He clutched a pillar at the top of the stairs, gauging his chances of running down, when more tiles fell, smashing on the stairs and the ground. Dust rose as he clung on and wondered where Sadanori was. He thought of Tamako and the rest of his family and of his own house. It had withstood earthquakes before, but never in such a derelict condition. At least they had no tiles to worry about. He looked across the lake towards the city. It shimmered oddly in the sulphurous light of the sunset, but looked peaceful enough. The great danger in an earthquake was fire. All it would take was one oil lamp falling over, or a hot coal spilling from a brazier, and the flames would race quickly from house to house.

When the earth stopped moving and no more tiles fell, Akitada ran down the steps, leaping over the debris of broken tiles and putting some distance between himself and the pavilion. Then he looked back. A portion of the roof was bare of tiles, and a few veranda supports leaned here and there. In a distance he heard people shouting. There was no sign of Sadanori. Once again fate had interfered at the wrong moment.

Akitada was turning towards the gate when he caught a glimpse of blue. It was under the pavilion, where it had no business being. He approached the building cautiously to look, but he knew already. Sadanori, in his panic, had crept under his new pavilion.

‘You’d better come out,’ Akitada called. ‘It’s not safe down there.’

There was no answer. Akitada took another step and saw that one of the main supports of the pavilion, a huge beam that rested on a flat rock and held up, along with three others, the elegant, but fragile structure above, had slipped far enough off its foundation that another jolt would bring the whole pavilion down on top of Sadanori.

‘Come out,’ Akitada shouted. ‘The building may fall. Hurry!’

There was still no reply. What was wrong with the man? Maybe a tile had stunned him. Or perhaps he was so afraid of Akitada that he would risk his life to avoid him.

It was a desperate choice. Someone in his own home might be hurt. Akitada hesitated, then ducked under the pavilion. Tora had hidden here when he overheard Sadanori speaking to Ishikawa. Sadanori was probably not worth saving, but watching him being crushed would be worse. He would grab him and drag him out into the open. And later, if all went well, he’d get the truth out of him.

Akitada bent double as he made his way to the cowering figure in the blue silk robe. Sadanori had lost his tall hat – Akitada stumbled over it – and sat with his head between his knees and covered by his arms.

‘Sadanori,’ said Akitada, ‘stop this foolishness. There’s no time. The building is slipping. You may be crushed at any moment. Come out.’

‘No,’ sobbed the other man. ‘I’ll die. It’s my fate.’

Akitada cursed under his breath and took hold of Sadanori’s arm. Jerking him up, he half carried, half dragged him towards light and safety.

But there was not enough time. The earth shook again, and the structure above them moaned in protest. Thinking of Tamako and his people, Akitada dropped Sadanori and scrambled towards the open. If he could at least reach the veranda overhang, he might be protected when the heavier timbers collapsed.

He managed a few more steps, then the ground under him rolled and heaved as if alive, and he fell to his knees. The large beam slipped with a slow squeal. One by one the horizontal supports above cracked, popped, tore, and splintered, and then the whole structure collapsed on him. For a moment the sound was deafening and it turned dark. Something heavy fell down in front of Akitada and blocked his way. The dust was thick and made his eyes burn and filled his nostrils until he choked. He was on his belly without knowing how he’d got there. Coughing, he tried to slide around the obstruction, to find a way out, but something pinned him from behind. When he used his right arm to feel around, he found that the floor of the pavilion was now within inches of his back and shoulders and touched his thighs. He could not reach any farther, and he could not move his legs.

An initial fear that he was injured severely and possibly paralyzed passed when he became aware of pain in his legs.

At about the same time, he heard Sadanori. The sound curdled Akitada’s blood. The high keening noise was followed by a rattle and did not sound human.

Akitada guessed that Sadanori was less than five feet behind him, but debris separated them. He cleared his throat and called out, ‘Sadanori?’

The keening paused.

‘Are you hurt?’ Akitada was not sure how badly he himself was hurt – the pain was mostly in his right leg – but he thought on the whole he had been lucky. Much depended on what happened next. Even if the main tremors were past,
aftershocks were common, and the slightest movement might bring down the debris, which merely pinned his legs now, and crush him.